The Lone Wolf Series. Louis Joseph Vance
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He was no longer alone, but shared the empty magnificence of those vast salons with one whose purpose was as furtive, as secret, as wary as his own; no servant or watchman roused by an intuition of evil, but one who had no more than he any lawful business there.
And while he stood at alert attention the sound was repeated from a point less distant, indicating that the second intruder was moving toward the library.
In two swift strides Lanyard left the shelter of the screen and took to cover in the recess of one of the tall windows, behind its heavy velvet hangings: an action that could have been timed no more precisely had it been rehearsed; he was barely in hiding when a shape of shadow slipped into the library, paused beside the massive desk, and raked the room with the light of a powerful flash-lamp.
Its initial glare struck squarely into Lanyard's eyes, dazzling them, as he peered through a narrow opening in the portières; and though the light was instantly shifted, for several moments a blur of peacock colour, blending, ebbing, hung like a curtain in the darkness, and he could see nothing distinctly — only the trail traced by that dancing spot-light over walls and furnishings.
When at length his vision cleared, the newcomer was kneeling in turn before the safe; but more light was needed, and this one, lacking Lanyard's patience and studious caution, turned back to the desk, and, taking the reading-lamp, transferred it to the floor behind the screen.
But even before the flood of light followed the dull click of the switch, Lanyard had recognized the woman.
For an instant he felt dazed, half-stunned, suffocating, much as he had felt with Greggs' fingers tightening on his windpipe, that week-old night at Troyon's; he experienced real difficulty about breathing, and was conscious of a sickish throbbing in his temples and a pounding in his bosom like the tolling of a great bell. He stared, swaying….
The light, gushing from the opaque hood, made the safe door a glare, and was thrown back into her intent, masked face, throwing out in sharp silhouette her lithe, sweet body, indisputably identified by the individual poise of her head and shoulders and the gracious contours of her tailored coat.
She was all in black, even to her hands, no trace of white or any colour showing but the fair curve of the cheek below her mask and the red of her lips. And if more evidence were needed, the intelligence with which she attacked the combination, the confident, business-like precision distinguishing her every action, proved her an apt pupil in that business.
His thoughts were all in a welter of miserable confusion. He knew that this explained many things he would have held questionable had not his infatuation forbidden him to consider them at all, lest he be disloyal to this woman whom he adored; but in the anguish of that moment he could entertain but one thought, and that possessed him altogether — that she must somehow be saved from the evil she contemplated….
But while he hesitated, she became sensitive to his presence; though he had made no sound since her entrance, though he had not even stirred, somehow she divined that he — someone — was there in the recess of the window, watching her.
In the act of opening the safe — using the memorandum of its combination which he had jotted down in her presence — he saw her pause, freeze to a pose of attention, then turn to stare directly at the portière that hid him. And for an eternal second she remained kneeling there, so still that she seemed not even to breathe, her gaze fixed and level, waiting for some sound, some sign, some tremor of the curtain's folds, to confirm her suspicion.
When at length she rose it was in one swift, alert movement. And as she paused with her slight shoulders squared and her head thrown back defiantly, challengingly, as one without will of his own but drawn irresistibly by her gaze, he stepped out into the room.
And since he was no more the Lone Wolf, but now a simple man in agony, with no thought for their circumstances — for the fact that they were both house-breakers and that the slightest sound might raise a hue-and-cry upon them — he took one faltering step toward her, stopped, lifted a hand in a gesture of appeal, and stammered:
"Lucy — you —— "
His voice broke and failed.
She didn't answer, more than by recoiling as though he had offered to strike her, until the table stopped her, and she leaned back as if glad of its support.
"Oh!" she cried, trembling — "why_ — why_ did you do it?"
He might have answered her in kind, but self-justification passed his power. He couldn't say, "Because this evening you made me lose faith in everything, and I thought to forget you by going to the devil the quickest way I knew — this way!" — though that was true. He couldn't say: "Because, a thief from boyhood, habit proved too strong for me, and I couldn't withstand temptation!" — for that was untrue. He could only hang his head and mumble the wretched confession: "I don't know."
As if he hadn't spoken, she cried again: "Why — why did you do it? I was so proud of you, so sure of you, the man who had turned straight because of me!… It compensated… But now…!"
Her voice broke in a short, dry sob.
"Compensated?" he repeated stupidly.
"Yes, compensated!" She lifted her head with a gesture of impatience: "For this — don't you understand? — for this that I'm doing! You don't imagine I'm here of my own will? — that I went back to Bannon for any reason but to try to save you from him? I knew something of his power, and you didn't; I knew if I went away with you he'd never rest until he had you murdered. And I thought if I could mislead him by lies for a little time — long enough to give you a chance to escape — I thought — perhaps — I might be able to communicate with the police, s denounce him —— "
She hesitated, breathless and appealing.
At her first words he had drawn close to her; and all their talk was murmurings. But this was quite instinctive; for both were beyond considerations of prudence, the one coherent thought of each being that now, once and forever, all misunderstanding must be done away with.
Now, as naturally as though they had been lovers always, Lanyard took her hand, and clasped it between his own.
"You cared as much as that!"
"I love you," she told him — "I love you so much I am ready to sacrifice everything for you — life, liberty, honour —— "
"Hush, dearest, hush!" he begged, half distracted.
"I mean it: if honour could hold me back, do you think I would have broken in here tonight to steal for Bannon?"
"He sent you, eh?" Lanyard commented in a dangerous voice.
"He was too cunning for me… I was afraid to tell you… I meant to tell — to warn you, this evening in the cab. But then I thought perhaps if I said nothing and sent you away believing the worst of me — perhaps you would save yourself and forget me —— "
"But never!"
"I tried my best to deceive him, but couldn't. They got the truth from me by threats —— "
"They wouldn't dare —— "
"They dare anything, I tell you! They knew enough of what had happened, through their spies, to go on, and they tormented and bullied me until I broke down and told them everything… And when they learned you had brought the jewels back here, Bannon told me I must bring them to him — that, if I refused, he'd have you killed. I held out until tonight; then just as I was about to go to bed he received a telephone message, and told me you were driving a taxi and followed by Apaches and wouldn't live till daylight if I persisted in refusing."
"You came alone?"
"No. Three men brought me to the gate. They're waiting outside, in the park."
"Apaches?"
"Two of them. The other is Captain Ekstrom."
"Ekstrom!" Lanyard cried in despair. "Is he —— "
The dull, heavy, crashing slam of the great front